The Experiment
by rtargyle
Summary: "You seem nervous, Doctor," Jim began to approach him and stood very close to him now but John didn't budge. He looked at the other man without a flinch or quiver, "…something troubling you?" - (rape/noncon-swearing)
1. Chapter 1: The Warning

{**For those followers visiting from my other story (you repel me) no need to worry, I'm updating that later this weekend.**}

Anyway, for the rest of you, welcome & enjoy..._could get a little rough down the road_!

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INTERLUDE: JUST SOME FRIENDLY ADVICE

* * *

For some reason, John felt his guilt sinking back into his chest as a few bailiffs led the jury out of the courtroom…Mainly because he felt as if his stupid blog was responsible for all of the publicity.

It made him angry too, that even at these trying times, Sherlock seems nonchalant; nothing infuriated John more, besides the '_we both know what's going on here face', _was that even in the middle of all this fucking chaos…He played it cool, calm and collected.

When John got outside the courtroom, he noticed there was a short que for the loo and John could feel his bladder pulsating. _Bloody hell_, he thought_, I should've gone beforehand! _So then he did the thing he could only do and that was sit at one of the wooden benches at the center of the isle.

Just then, the Judge came running back through the corridors with his wig flapping and all of sudden, all of the attendees to Moriarty's court-case been flying through the big, wooden double-doors.

John quickly scrambled into the Gentleman's Lavatory when he quickly found himself alone and in the same bathroom as Jim Moriarty. He was casually popped up against the porcelain countertops and with his backside facing the mirror. That's when Watson noticed a single pawn, one of Jim's dirty-workers, with a gun and his face completely covered. _Great_, he swallowed hard, _now this? Isn't he suppose to hear his own damned verdict_!

"You seem nervous, Doctor," Jim began to approach him and stood very close to him now but John didn't budge. He looked at the other man without a flinch or quiver, "…something troubling you?"

"Ah, well you know," Watson sneered, "I came to take a whiz but instead I have to deal with you and your thug," John shrugged, sarcastically driving his words because he could feel his anger beginning to peak, "So…I don't know Jim, you tell me? Do I look nervous?"

Suddenly, Jim grabbed his blazer and threw John against the hard counters. He stumbled for a moment, grunting in pain. The room went spinning and he felt a little numb from the crash but he kept his eye on Jim as he stumbled to rise and stand.

"I came just to offer some friendly advice"-

"Oh? Really? That's a relief." John smacked under his breath.

"You should be careful on your way home this afternoon, something could happen." Jim turned to leave and strolled out crisp and fresh.

"Thanks. Really appreciated it, especially coming from a consultant criminal such as yourself." John dusted himself off finally when Jim came back around the corner.

"I'm serious," Jim whispered, "…it's dangerous out there."

* * *

Until next time!

-J


	2. Chapter 2: It's Begun

_You guys…I just wanna thank you all for sticking with me through this tough time. Writing is the only thing that releases a bunch of tension for me but lately I've been so damn depressed (since my therapist suggested trying new medications) lately, that all I've done is cry, sleep and lay in bed. So I apologize, truly. _

_But…hold on to your hats, this one is doozey, probably something you're not even expecting but all the same – _

**ENJOY!**_  
_

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CHAPTER TWO _**-**_ "**It's Begun**"

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John stalked out of the courthouse, always looking around him and behind him. He wasn't sure if Moriartiy was just using a scare tactic or what but Watson kept his eyes open and his nerves on edge.

"_Sherlock_?" John spoke into his phone, full of rage and loathing, "They found him not guilty! Not guilty…you know he'll be coming for you. Sherlock"—

_Ugh_, John mentally sighed as he looked at his phone and saw that he had hung up on him…_again_. _That was typical_, being as nonchalant as was but it irritated John into an explosive flame.

John came walking now into the main road, feeling a little safer than before and decided to stop over to the café just down the way. He wanted some type of distraction and eagerly desired some coffee to perk him awake.

* * *

"Like every good fairy-tale," Moriarity calmly eyed Holmes as he sipped the rest of his tea, "it needs an old fashioned villain…." Jim tapped his fingers softly but steadily, counting down mentally, within his head _8…7…6…5…4…3…. _Sherlock finished his cup and reached over to put it back on his saucer and tray but everything started to get really fuzzy when—!

Suddenly, every fiber, every cell, every hair, nail, tooth, nail, eyelash –his insides felt like they were all falling apart, one by one and dissipating, only to gather at the pit of his stomach. He could feel himself sink deeper, and deeper and deeper. The teacup, as well as the saucer and tray, went falling and shattering across the floor.

Sherlock fell back harshly against his chair and his muscles turned to jelly when he tried to move. Jim just sat there, peeling his apple and letting the skin fall to the floor. Holmes attempted to stand but fell back even further into the cushions of the wide chair.

There then came a euphoric fantasy that twirled with Sherlock's eyes, turning all sorts of colors and blinding him. His body was so warm that tremors and shivers all delightfully passed through his motionless body like electricity. _God_, he thought sheepishly,_ this feels so good_! Pounds and pounds of weight hit him like waves, rippling through his body and crashing hard again his reality.

"_Yous_-you've….drug-drugged." Sherlock could hardly speak and his words slurred together.

"_Ahh_, just relax for now and hush up," Jim commanded softly as he set his apple aside and casually strolled over to where Sherlock was slumped into a knot against the couch. His Technicolor eyes gleamed all sorts of greens, blues and golds but he remained fixated, in a trance, at the ceiling fan above. Moriarty wanted to jump for joy –he had Holmes, right where he wanted him. _Vulnerable_.

"Of course you do realize that the more you exert yourself," Jim pointed out as Sherlock tried to stand (but he was instantly pushed back down), "the more powerful the drug affects your reaction time. Don't struggle." Jim politely scooped up Sherlock in his arms and went stalking through the narrow corridor of the flat.

Jim tossed Sherlock onto the bed and ripped off his blue, silk robe; Sherlock went tumbling over and fell on his back against the plushness of his mattress. He almost felt like he could just fall asleep this but then he noticed Jim taking off his blazer and undoing his tie….

"If. -_If you dare_"—

"**Shut**. **Your**. **Mouth**." Jim's voice dropped low, dangerous and raspy. He smirked for only a moment as he finished unbuttoning his dress shirt.

"Besides, I've always wanted to fuck a virgin."

* * *

"Well," Irene Adler appeared from the dead and at the window of a small nook within the café John had decided to visit, "my, my!"

John turned around, searching for the soft, feminine voice that resonated delicately within his ears; they rang with alarm and familiarity. He tightened his grip on his coffee as he stood at the corner of doors of the small shop.

"Irene?" John's face widened with surprise as they looked at one another. John then approached her quickly, leaning over the small café table and casting a dark shadow over her electronic table.

"The last I had heard," said John, almost with a hiss, "you were dead."

She smirked as she collected her purse and green tea; she stuffed her tablet within her stylish case and stood up. Irene began to exit the shop when she noticed John wasn't following her and she stopped to look back at him.

"I'm extremely hard to kill…_trust me_, I know a few tricks of my own. _Remember, I misbehave, John_." She glanced at him, smiling.

"I see and uh, what-what are you doing in London, again? Moriarty will come looking for you too."

"Really? He seems too much interested with what Sherlock is doing." Irene said, not wasting another word as she fiercely stepped off the curve of the sidewalk and waved down a taxi. _Odd_, John thought, _I thought cabs weren't allowed tinted windows_; even the passenger and driver side windows were coated in charcoal.

Irene opened the door of the cab and looked back at Watson who waited to wish her farewell until she offered to drive him back to his flat with Sherlock. He was hesitant at first but nodded his way through the cab.

John sat himself on the other side of the cab and Irene followed.

"221 B Baker Street," She said to the driver, "please...Thank-you."

All of a sudden, as Watson peered out the opposite window, he could feel something sharp pierce into his skin. There came an overwhelming and painful burning that burrowed itself deep within his side and the poison spread instaneously throughout his entire body. It was like melting rocks, rolling deeper inside the cracks of his tanned skin and charring through his muscles.

Then swiftly, his body went bounding up and down too fast, like a rollercoaster that his stomach started to quake uneasily. John couldn't control his balance and went tumbling forward, spilling his coffee. Irene kept a hand on his shoulder and finally removed the syringe.

"_Tsk_. _Tsk_," Irene shook her head lightly, putting the cap back onto needle, "Now just look at the mess you've made!" She then scooted herself closer, knowing well that the drug she used would essentially render him a puppet; she would be the string, Irene smirked inwardly –she always loved these kinds of games.

Just then she softly caressed her cheek against his, turning her head so that her lips brushed over his ears. She nicked, flitted and sucked gently up and down the nape of his neck. She traced the outline of his jaw with her lips; breathing hot along his chin before Irene's pointed, wet tongue dribbled lightly up to his lips. John moaned deeply, shifting his movement but found Adler crawling on top of him. He could feel his member started to buck up and just as Irene's crotch adjusted to his, his erection became stiffer and massive.

When he tried to speak, all that he could muster up was a deep guttural moan that sounded full and tenor. He couldn't deny the feeling; i_t felt so damn good. It was only natural right? God,_ he thought, Irene smell like an exotic spa and glittered from foaming bubbles of lavender everywhere. He could even smell the jasmine scent, reeking from her brown hair!

Quickly, his body fell numb. John became insanely alarmed but the advancements she was making on him as she straddled him like a horse and pressed him hard against the seat made him twist and bend on the inside.

Irene began kissing John, slipping her tongue into his moldable mouth and pressed gingerly into his moist lips. Then she wrapped her hands against his throat and began gagging him with delight.

"God," She sighed with thick, swollen wet lips, "I can't wait for _all of us_ to have a little fun. Besides, we could use a little sexual release—wouldn't you agree?" She released his throat and still sat, grinding against John's hips. John went gasped for hair and wheezed uneasily, looking up at Adler with blurred vision.

* * *

Sherlock was skew across the width of his bed and felt the back his head tipping over the edge of the feathery mattress. He wanted to move, he tried several times but each time he kept falling all over himself like inanimate rag-doll.

Just then, Jim was crawling on top of him with his blood-red dress shirt open and unbuttoned but unmoved. He hovered against Sherlock, closely and watched him for a moment before leaning down quickly to kiss Sherlock's thin lips and rub them raw. They were soft, pressing harder and harder against Holmes. Then Jim gingerly then slipped his tongue through Sherlock's tight-lipped mouth.

Jim then swiftly slivered his way down Sherlock's torso and slipped his hand into the other man's soft pajama trousers. He found the sensitive flesh nestled between his thighs and squeezed softly. Jim started to stroke it rhythmically until it began to harden. He then turned his attention back to Sherlock, who he writhed in both violation and pleasure but Moriarty watched him closely, admiring the surrender that contorted throughout Holmes' features.

Sherlock wanted to move, he wanted to hurt Jim and he wanted to—! He gasped suddenly when he felt his member tingle softly. It became a fever, much like a wildfire spreading uncontrollably. He wasn't used to his pleasurable feeling but it kept shooting up and down his crotch, making him hot and his face warm. It was almost like electricity except it buried itself underneath his skin and exploded.

"Feels good," Jim swiftly whispered, upon Sherlock and so close to his face that his damp, warm breath fell against his neck, "…doesn't it?"

Moriarty then firmly grasped Sherlock's member and started to pump harder and harder, making the consulting detective sign and gasps. Such wonderful sounds, much like a virgin –soft, airy, gasping, loud moaning, arching backs, etc. etc. Either way, Jim studied Sherlock until he twisted beneath.

"_Sto_…**St**..**Stop**," Sherlock could barely speak normally and fell back against the bed when he felt Moriarty's tiny but strong hands fiercely grab at his throat. He wrapped his fingers tightly against his windpipe and pressed Sherlock into the mattress. That's when Holmes felt Moriarty straddle his hips and press all his weight into Sherlock's pelvis, grinding along their ridge.

Sherlock desperately tried to stifle his pleasure, his absolute bliss but found himself moaning, shivering and trembling beneath this odious man. He tried to swallow again but only gagged, spitting up a thin trail of saliva that dribbled over his swollen mouth. His body ached, it heaved and shook, quaking with such pleasure that he found himself grinding into Jim.

"My, my," Jim giggled, wringing up a handful of Sherlock's curly hair and released his throat, for which he gasped relentlessly for air. If he could just cough or anything but he was trapped. He couldn't move, he couldn't breath—_bloody-fucking_"—

Just then there came a silence between the both of them when they heard someone in the other room. They closed the door but there was a strange, squeaky noise; much like the rubber bottom of a tennis shoe makes against smooth surface. It was dragging and limping against gravity.

_Oh god_, Sherlock panicked_, not John too. Not again. Not like this for the love of bloody-hell please….Don't. Be John. _

" Oh, Jimmy!" A familiar voice whistled from the living room, "I've brought you that little present, like you asked."

_Oh…uh. No! No! Nonono!_ Sherlock screamed mentally as Moriarty smiled at him, _It can't be, the Woman. This is worse. Much worse. _

"Right on time," Jim called, pressing all his weight against Sherlock, "Why don't bring Johnny Boy back here, hmm? Would you like that, Sherlock?"

* * *

_I really hope this made up for lost time –I hope you're excited about the next update cause….I CAN'T WAIT FOR YOU TO READ IT! _

**-Until next time my loyal followers3**

_jlturx3


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